


Desire Tenfold

by DragonRider1



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonRider1/pseuds/DragonRider1
Summary: "What is it you desire, little dove?""You."





	Desire Tenfold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [undertheteacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertheteacup/gifts).



It whisks across her skin before she is even fully under. An incorporeal chain lazily spins around her and pulls tighter with every beat of her heart. It drags her across, sieving through the breaks in the Veil. Where before she stood upon the corpse of a ghostly dragon, now she felt herself set upon delicate silk and sleek metal. A pleasant scent lingers in the air, weaving their way through her senses. Pressure was lain across her curious eyes, not quite a strip of dark; but a dull haze that left her with faint colors. A swirl of soft browns, brilliant greens, and a smear of wriggling color at her periphery.

As the rich hue dances in waves through her vision, it feels as if feathers drew across her bare shoulders. A tip of sensation drags over her thin skin, until one such “feather” presses a little too hard and she feels the sharpness to it. It is as if a quill end is being scratched across her skin, rather than the gentle bristles. She could feel the raised ridge it left behind, itching with a slight touch of pain. And as much as she wishes to deal with it, to thumb it away with a touch of healing magic; her whole body felt too heavy. It was as if someone had swapped her joints with rocks.

The deep color moves closer to her, till it disappears next to her head. She could feel the cold breath of someone...something, the supple skin of another. Plump lips caress her ear, settling against the most sensitive curve. A voice low with heady sin and promise sweeps across her, sending a shiver through her body.

_“What do you desire, dearest?”_

**Happiness.  
** **Revenge.  
** **Freedom.  
**Retribution.  
**Love.** ****

********

****

Years of her life lost, taken from her, back. Those who captured and caged her, brought down before her. Someone to stand with her, to lay down beside her. She desired it all.

The world sways with her whim and was met with familiarity. A waft of fresh-made bread and a persistent musk of rain, the sounds of her friends and soldiers making their way across the Keep stayed with her. As she opens her eyes, she discovers herself back in her hall. Though not alone.

A woman with glimmering, violet eyes sashays her way into the hall. Heels click loud across the stone floor; she drips confidence with each step. Her hair is tied back with a ribbon, and she wears a deep purple brassiere with a long, black robe. It reminds Amell of Morrigan in some ways, smoothly sure of herself with a touch of darkness. A black flame in a night's pyre.

Amell perks up as she notes that the woman is being trailed. A line of Templars trudge after, shackled and beaten. They were all faces Amell knew and each in a state that made her giddy.

As the mysterious woman reaches her, she bows and violently tugs the chain of the captives behind her. Each ex-Templar stumbling to their knees with looks of hatred and fear, looks that Amell knew she had once wore. It was a rush of pleasure, a sense of accomplishment to have her throne and them to possess nothing.

“What would you have of them, my lady?” The woman smiles, teeth almost viciously sharp flashing.

“Nothing of them.” Amell grins and gathers herself up into her throne, wondering exactly what was in store for her prisoners.

“Then it is so.” The sharp smile grows into an inhuman grin, the woman turning to the captured Templars. For a moment, the world wavers again. A tail curls around the woman's waist and horns flicker upon her head, as she gathers energy from her surroundings. A stream of black fire twists from her wrist and it whisks away the fading forms of the Templars. Amell can see the edges of the world, know this fantasy is paper thin and this demon for what it is. Yet knowing all this only makes her want for the genuine thing, for the power over her past and future that this being wants to offer.

“Is there anything more you wish of me, commander?” The woman kneels before Amell's throne, her head low and her bright eyes look up from beneath her thick eyelashes.

“What do you wish of me...?” Amell offers back.

“You may call me...Avidity. I wish only to please you and in return receive pleasure of my own, my lady.” The woman rises gradually from the ground and steps close to the throne. Amell tilts her head backwards as Avidity approaches, trying to keep contact with those predatory eyes. Avidity hangs over Amell, a clawed and painted hand grips the back of the metal seat with a minor ting.

“And if I wish for more?” Amell lifts herself, barely off her seat.

“Then I will serve in those ways too, and will gladly do so as long as I am able.” Avidity whispered softly, her hand sliding off the throne to Amell's shoulder. Amell was lead back down, Avidity ran a long claw along the mage's soft cheek. She finally seals her lips over Amell's and Amell tastes the fine wine of last night and a tinge of something unknown.

Soon the claws on Amell's shoulder ghosts across Amell's skin, sweeping carefully down her throat and dipping beneath her neck. Amell shifts, suddenly she feels lighter and a chill settles over her. Her clothes having dissolved into the streams of black mist, that seems to seep from Avidity and into the distance of the Fade.

Avidity's fingers drifts lower and Amell trembles, she pulls away to watch as they slip down the swell of her breast and circle her nipple. A small gasp catches in her throat as the thin claw flicks over the sensitive bud.

“You are so beautiful, Lady Amell.” The elongated nail flits over the nipple again and Amell arches up with a gasp. “Such a beautiful, little dove.” Avidity smirks as Amell shivers at her words.

The desire demon presses at Amell again and Amell takes the cue, allowing herself to be lowered into the back of the throne. Avidity settles between Amell's legs, before sliding downwards. She steals Amell's lips on her way down and Amell meets her with fervor and a want to drink in more of this spirit. A small noise slips from the mage and Avidity cups her breast, the delicate skin yielding to her touch. Another pleasant shiver rolls through Amell.

“Please.” Amell gasps and weaves her fingers into the hair tied behind Avidity's head. The strands fall as Amell pulls her fingers through it and she gives desire a wilder look. Avidity slips away and trails her full lips down Amell's neck. She nips and sucks at the beautiful, delectable skin leaving behind her mark. The scent of magic and sex overtakes Amell's senses as she breathed deeply at the sensation.  
To Amell this was her savior, marking and claiming her for freedom. This was her life, to be used and worshiped at the same time.

Amell jerks with a whimper, Avidity ginning against the column of her neck and pressing her thumb deeper into Amell's inner thigh. The barely there nudge against Amell's throbbing clit causing Amell to squirm and mewl.

“Ma—Maker. How?” Amell groans into the ozone thick air.

“Far too much practice and longing, my darling dove.” Avidity pulls away and Amell could merely watch, a dangerous glint in the deep violet eyes. The demonic woman admires her work at picking apart the Hero of Ferelden. Her void black hair drapes, wildly over her shoulder as she nibbles her lip, reddening it further. The sight before Amell wrings her just a bit tighter, no doubt in a similar way as it has this Desire.

The demon in name was to represent a glutton for manipulating people and abandoning them strung up. It was a predator and she, the willing prey, both striving for a hotter pleasure and a form of release.

Avidity's claw climbs Amell's leg further, centering in on her clit. She slowly rubs against the mage and watches every twitch and reaction; she wrings from the woman. Amell's eyes slide partially shut, her mouth sliding open with delectable whines and gasps.

“Such a very good, little dove.” Desire grins again, Amell quivering more as the demon's warm touch returns. Avidity's other hand drifts along a path down the smooth skin of Amell's stomach, the fingertips gripping her knee and shifting it out of the way. The new angle allowing Avidity to roll Amell's clit and slide fingers along the slick skin.

“Ah, yes!”

Avidity drops to the ground fully, another wicked grin upon her face. Her sleek skin pressed as close to possible to Amell's heated flesh.

“That's not how you ask, darling.” The demon teases, dipping wet fingers into Amell.

_”Please.”_

“Better.” Avidity dips and presses a kiss along Amell's inner thigh, her fingers sliding fully into Amell's slick pussy. The pressure lifts only a little.

Amell squirms for more friction, clenching her thighs around Avidity's hand and arches into the touch. The demon groans and shifts between Amell's legs, sinking deeper into the wetness.

Eventually, sounds pour from Amell filling the barely lit room and Avidity renews her efforts. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and begins to thrust her fingers into Amell, setting a languid pace. With a cry, Amell withers beneath the demon's attention and Avidity brings her other arm across Amell's thighs. She pins Amell into the throne and rocks with her, panting along with the pleasured mage. She watches her long fingers, carefully disappear into Amell's wet hear. The friction of their sensitive skin rubbing against one another only piling onto the hot pressure within Amell.

“Mm, dove. Will you come for me?” Avidity gives a small laugh, the burning coil in Amell tightens a little more and she is quick to nod.

“Of—of course.” Amell shakes and moves her hands to Avidity's shoulders, grasping them with need. Avidity figures out a pace that has Amell squeezing her and striving for more, legs twitching with each stroke. Her gasps echo in the dim room.

Finally Avidity slips her lips over Amell's clit and the mage squeals. The demon laps at the little button as she continues to tease her fingers into Amell. She only lifts her head to take a fake breath and tease the worn Amell.

“What's the matter dove?” Avidity asks running her fingers along Amell's pulsing wall, finding that little spot inside the mage. Amell writhes and whimpers. “Desire have that pretty tongue?”

Amell's hips buck from the throne as she comes, her moans lost in the sound of crackling. The dam of pleasure and pressure in her crumbling down and allowing the heat to consume her. She sighs as she rides down from the high, her head still hazy and the unsure if the world is truly spinning or if it is just her.

Desire sighs as she stumbles to her feet, watching the mage through her own foggy gaze. Amell lets out a rough laugh as she takes in Avidity's blissful and wanting state. Her dark hair a mess and sticking to her face from the sweat. Amell reaches out and tucks a particularly obstructive strand away. The demon woman grasps the hand before Amell can remove it, pressing a light kiss to the palm before resting it against a flushed and yet strangely cold cheek.

“Allow me to be with, always, and you shall always have me dove.”

“I wouldn't wish it any other way.”


End file.
